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I look back on to my childhood with happiness, as every day was a bit of an adventure for me. It’s strange though, I can colour just about every day. Most days were yellow, back behind the fish and chippery where I grew up.
I lived with my grandparents, as my parents were killed in a car accident when I was only one year old. I don’t really mind though, as I never had time to know them well and my grandparents seemed to me like all my friend’s parents, just a bit older.
One of my favourite pastimes when we lived there was going out to the St Kilda beach with a big bag of chips, then counting how many seagulls were brave enough to snatch a chip from it when it was laid out on the sand.
I remember there being one seagull who was particularly brave. He had a black beak and one of his wings had a long gash in it, so I could always know if that seagull had come back. This seagull used to come right up to the bag, steal a chip, and then rather then half run-half fly away like the other seagulls, he stood right there and ate the chip in front of us, as if teasing that he stole our food.
One ANZAC day I took Nan and Pop down to the beach with me, because the shop was closed. They laughed really hard at the seagulls… That day gets a green colour. I don’t know why, it just seems to be a green day.
I liked to go to Luna park too. Nan took me there on the less busy days, before I had started at primary school.
The first time I went was on a Thursday, the day that the brave seagull came out all the time. All I wanted to do was to go on the big roller coaster that surrounded the place, so I could try to catch a glimpse of the beach, and maybe spot him.
I didn’t see him. I don’t know why I got upset over just one seagull, but I felt really guilty that day for not being there with my chips so he could steal some. So the next Thursday I bought two bags. Sure enough, the brave seagull came. I was really relieved, and looking back now I find it really trivial, but kind of cute. A pink day.
The fish and chips shop though was my favourite place in the whole world. It was always exciting, what, with the deep fryer for the chips, all the smells of the fish and hamburgers… Lots of interesting people came in too.
One of these people was a really large woman who always wore long, flowing skirts that stuck out- like in the olden days with the petticoats. I was always curious as to why her skirt stuck out like that, and one orange day concluded that the people she was buying the fish and chips for all the time hid under her skirt. After that I kept a watchful eye on her skirt, just to see if any of them would look out, even just for a second.
When Pop eventually asked me what I was doing and I told him, he laughed like he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. I was a bit confused, so he told me that she wore petticoats under her skirts. I was a bit disappointed, but I still thought in the back of my mind that maybe Pop was wrong, so I didn’t stop watching.
My fondest memories though were those of just spending time with my grandparents. I said before that they were just like any of my friends’ parents, but I think they were a lot nicer and less strict.
My grandparents always tried to make me feel happy, and I was often spoilt with little treats and such. I felt obligated to make them happy all the time, drawing pictures, singing songs in the mornings on weekdays when the shop was quiet… Or just taking them down to the beach with me to eat chips, and count seagulls.
My Pop owned a successful fish and chips shop out in St Kilda, just on the corner of one of the streets, and my Nan helped out wherever she could. We had a little house out the back of it too.
"This is my life story, isn't it?"
She handled the book tenderly in her hands, like it would fall apart if she held it in a wrong way.
"Isn't it?"
He gently took her hands, before slowly taking the book and inspecting it. He than put it back in the same manner.
"It is"
He smiled.
"It's cleverly disguised as a fairytale. You're quite bright to have picked that up."
She kept her eyes lingering on his smile. It was gentle, like his hands. This man was not just any guy off the street.
"Who wrote it?"
He shrugged. They sat on the park bench in silence then, watching the sun melt behind the skyscrapers of the city.
He looked at her. She couldn't be any older than eleven years old. Yet the way she held herself suggested that she knew more than most. He looked at the purple sunset again.
"What brings you here anyway? Most people don't want to talk to a guy down on his luck."
"My parents died. You read my Life Story, so now you're the only on who knows who I am."
"You don't have any other family?"
The girl was silent for a few seconds. He noticed that she almost cried, but caught herself.
"I don't know. The people who I thought were my family walked away and forgot about me."
He nodded. This little girl had gone through so much, but she was still so young.
"What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know."
"You say that a lot."
She looked up at him and blinked.
"You're right. I do"
She laughed. Her laughter was like the sound a waterfall makes when it hits the rocks at the bottom. It made him smile again.
"What do you do then?"
He reeled back at this question.
"Well... I go to work in a big office. The money from that buys me food, keeps my clothes in this bag clean, and every so often a room in a motel. When I can't have a room, I sleep here."
"Even when it rains?"
"If it rains I've got some old tarpaulin I found. I use that to cover myself."
The girl looked into his eyes.
"You're lying."
The wisdom of this girl again caused him to double back.
"You're right. I am. I live in an apartment two blocks from here. I write books and send them off to a publisher."
"I like reading"
"I know"
"You wrote this book, didn't you?"
She held up her Life Story.
"Yes, I did"
The girl smiled.
"You remembered me."
Tears sprung into the man's eyes as he took the book back again.
"No, I didn't"
As the sun finally disappeared behind the buildings, the man wept. He sat alone for a few minutes before again taking up the search for his granddaughter. His hope was that someone nice had adopted her.
Hope.
I was five and he was six,
We were kids only just yesterday. I could swear it.
He had caught me. But unlike the games we used to play, I wouldn’t let him win this time. He didn’t deserve it. For once, it was my turn. I wouldn’t let him get away with it.
Bang Bang,
It was like one of the Westerns we used to watch. A face off, in the middle of town at noon.
Only this was real. In the middle of the street at midnight. And it was raining. My wet clothes clung to me.
In the lamplight, my dead child cried out to me in my mind. I don’t know if I was crying for him or not too. My face was too wet to tell.
My grip tightened around the pistol. Why there was a pistol in the house, I still don’t know. Why it was fully loaded confused me even more. Was he planning to do this? Was this pistol his back up plan, just in case he lost the one he was holding now?
Seasons came and changed the time,
It wasn’t a game this time. There were real bullets in this gun. There were real bullets in his.
A shiver ran up my spine as the cold began to get to me.
He walked closer. I held the pistol up, aimed it at him.
“How could you?”
“Bang Bang,
He said it so matter-of-factly. As if we… His wife and son… Were just toys he could throw out when he didn’t want to play anymore.
Was that how it was when he was young?
Music played and people said,
“I loved you!”
The rain kept falling. He didn’t say anything. The lamp flickered.
“I still do!”
Somewhere in the distance, a car span its tyres in the rain. I knew I was crying now. I sobbed.
Now he's gone,
That was it. I couldn’t handle it anymore.
He raised his gun.
“I told you. I don’t love you”
I raised mine. I sniffed back some tears, but I could still feel them flowing from me under the rain, which hit against my face relentlessly and had me soaked through.
“You… Bastard”
Bang Bang,
The lamp fizzled out, and the street went black.
Two pistols fired.
I cried as I heard a stranger’s body hit the ground
we rode on horses made of sticks.
He wore black and I wore white,
he would always win the fight.
He shot me down
Bang Bang,
I hit the ground
Bang Bang,
That awful sound
Bang Bang,
My baby shot me down.
When I grew up I called him mine.
He would always laugh and say,
Remember when we used to play.
I shot you down
Bang Bang,
You hit the ground
Bang Bang,
I used to shoot you down.”
“I don’t love you anymore. It needed to happen, or you would both come after me”
“You… sick freak!”
just for me the church bells rang.
I don’t know why.
And till this day,
sometimes I cry.
He didn't even say goodbye,
He didn’t take the time to lie.
He shot me down
Bang Bang,
I hit the ground
Bang Bang,
That awful sound
Bang Bang,
My baby shot me down.
That man came on a night when the rain was loud on the roof, and the moon was full. Or, I am told the moon was full. I have never seen the moon, and I doubt I ever will. In my life, the only thing I have ever been able to see was him, a shaft of radiant light cutting through the constant darkness.
The gunshots were loud that night. All the ‘good’ people of Hamlin were shivering inside. No-one goes outside at night. That’s when the Rats rule. Mess with the Rats, and you’ll wake up with the fishes nibbling at your fingers, and a new pair of cement shoes. The police can’t do anything either. Everyone is scared, no, terrified of the Rats.
Mayor Shultz called for help from the other cities. A big risk for the Rats’ number one target, but then again I’m told he and his family have enough security to keep the Whitehouse safe. I hear this from a very reliable source, because I am Mayor Shultz’s son.
But He came when my father had almost given up hope on any help coming. It had been almost a year since the call went out. I heard my father telling my mother that he was thinking of turning all the guards over to her and I. He hoped that by offering himself to the Rats, he might save us. I felt my way around my room and to my bed, knowing that I shouldn’t be hearing their conversation.
I had almost fallen asleep when the heavy sound of the bell started to ring out. It was the bell at the city hall, which meant there was an urgent meeting. Anyone who rang that bell surely had a death wish. Meetings these days were organised in secret, so the Rats would not know until it was over. But for him, I was sure anything was possible.
Sure enough, my parents and I piled into the van, and amidst the bullets I could hear ricocheting off its armoured chassis, I could hear all of Hamlin making their way through the underground paths, underneath the rumbling of the van. They were secret, but I could hear the footsteps of the people echoing as they walked through the metal corridors. Mother always said I could hear things that no-one else could. The Rats were all yelling about the city bell, but none of them seemed to be heading towards the hall.
Mother and I were always seated high above everyone, and my father stayed below on what mother tells me was a stage where everyone could see him. Mother told me that I was safe here in City Hall - that no bullets could get into our little glass room, where speakers’ voices came through a different type of speaker on the roof.
“Good evening, Hamlin” A smooth voice came from the roof. His. This was the first time I had heard it.
She was silent for a while, and I realised she thought my request strange. But sure enough, I felt her warm hand guide mine to the cold, bullet-proof glass. She needn’t have moved my head down to face him though, I could already see him in his strange yellow and red Zoot Suit, with what could only be described as a calm expression on his face, covered loosely by blonde hair. I couldn’t help myself. I gasped. No-one would ever believe I could see him, that I could see Pfeifer.
“What is it darling?”
Pfeifer continued.
“I am offering you all the opportunity to be rid of your rodent problem. I am a qualified professional and can guarantee them gone by morning. For a price, of course.”
There was hushed conversation. No-one believed what he said either. Who could get rid of the Rats? But I would believe anything he said. He moved to the left as I heard my father talking over the microphone.
“Thank you… This is the first offer we’ve ever had… We’d be grateful… How much are you asking, exactly?” I could hear the desperation in his voice. Father knew the city didn’t have much money, we had spent most of it trying to get rid of the Rats in the past.
There was silence around the room. My father grappled the microphone again, making muffled sounds, “Anything… Please. If you are as qualified as you say, we will pay you your thousand guilders.”
“We don’t have that money… Oh dear…” I could hear Mother groan beside me. But I realised at this moment that Father really was at his rope’s end. If he didn’t say that, Pfeifer would leave and Father’s only alternative was to hand himself over to the Rats and hope they’d leave us alone after that.
And that was when he looked at me, with those blue eyes like needles. He did nothing for a while, but then he smiled, and looked away, “I’ll begin tomorrow, before sunrise” he said. Everyone began to leave after that, including my parents and I. When we got home they tucked me in bed. Hamlin went to sleep, with an anxious hope for the morning.
…
I awoke when it was still dark. There was a soft sound, a flute. Everything was quiet except for it, and at that moment I knew I was the only one who could hear it. I felt my way down my bed, to my window. There were heavy footsteps outside. I wasn’t the only one. The Rats were hearing it too. But there were no clicking of guns, or cracking of knuckles. They were just… walking. And then, there was Pfeifer, in his Zoot Suit, playing his flute. He walked past our armoured house and my bullet-proof window, smiled, and winked at me. Then he and the footsteps of the Rats disappeared in the direction of the Weser River.
I was left with the sound of the rain on the road.
…
We were attending church next morning when the news came. The police constable’s footsteps echoes, interrupting the hymn that Hamlin was singing. The whole congregation stopped, the organist bringing the music to a very abrupt stop. He pulled my father away from my right side and whispered into his ear. Hushed words not meant to be spread around. For the moment, at least.
Father was silent, and I knew that everyone was looking at him. He cleared his throat.
“Reverend, continue, please.” My father was excited, but he was never one to break Mass.
The organ started again. Not for long though, with a gasp from the organist it cut out again.
“That will be a thousand guilders, mayor”
I had never heard such silence in Hamlin. I could see Pfeifer again, he was sitting on what I assumed to be a rafter of the Church roof, looking down on us all. Next to me, Father was clearing his throat again.
“Mr. Pfeifer, this perhaps isn’t the best time to be having this discussion-“
My father groaned. This was not his way. He had made a deal to try save us all. He did not care about the consequences at the time, only us.
“My father does not have the guilders, Pfeifer. We’re sorry. But thank you”
Pfeifer looked down at me. He gave me that smile again, a smile that said that because I could see him and had heard him last night meant I was the most important person in the world.
“That’s all I needed to hear. This evening then, Hamlin”
Pfeifer disappeared from my view. For the third time, Father cleared his throat.
…
Evening came.
We were at City Hall, but for the first time Mother and I didn’t have to sit in the little safe box. Mother said we were sitting on the stage today, because it wasn’t dangerous anymore. Not with the news Father was about to tell. I don’t think she realise I already knew that the ‘danger’ was gone. Floating, dead in the Weser River.
The chair they made me sit on was a stiff, wooden thing. Not like the comfortable cushions that they had for us in the safe box. Danger or not, I preferred to be up there. I didn’t like the idea of Hamlin looking at me while I couldn’t see them.
Father began to speak.
“As the mayor of Hamlin, I have called this meeting to announce some good news that I’m sure a few of you have already heard…”
I stopped listening as I felt a splinter dig into my skin as I rubbed my hands along the chair. I took my finger and sucked it, hoping to get the fleck of wood out. And that’s when I heard Pfeifer.
“Deiter… Deiter Shultz… Come with me… Don’t stay up on that stage… Come with me Deiter”
He was playing his flute again. I ignored the gasps of adults around the room as chairs were pushed back. I was going with Pfeifer, because Pfeifer made me important. Pfeifer knew my name and he wouldn’t let me get splinters in my fingers.
“Deiter…”
“I’m coming!”
My voice joined those of other children. Why were the other children answering? Pfeifer was calling me. They would only get in the way.
I heard the controlled footsteps and the loud panic of parents, grabbing at their children. My parents grabbed at me, but I kept walking. I had to go to Pfeifer. He was going to give me all the comfortable chairs, and warm beds I wanted. And I would see things. If I could see Pfeifer, surely I would be able to see other things if he helped me?
I tripped on the stairs. I had forgotten that I had climbed stairs. I had forgotten that I was not familiar with coming to the stage at all. I didn’t have a clue where I was.
“Pfeifer! I’m coming! Help me!”
I felt more hands grab at me as I painfully hoisted myself up, and kept walking, walking through the chaos, with chairs that hit my shins and feet as I did so, as well as unseen fingers trying to stop me leaving. Pfeifer’s voice was getting further and further away. The flute too. And the children’s voices. He was leaving me here, here with the people who didn’t know my name.
“Pfeifer! Pfeifer!”
Finally, I heard the texture underneath my feet change. I was on the stairs of the city hall. I knew these stairs, and climbed down, now letting in only the increasingly softer sound of the flute. I blocked out the sound of my footsteps, the laughter of the children following Pfeifer, the screams and cries of parents, the pleas of my own parents… Only Pfeifer’s flute, and my name.
“Deiter…”
“I’m coming”
“Deiter…”
I could only just hear it. I held on…
Then, the sound suddenly cut out, just as I heard a loud splash and water was rising up my socks, legs, waist, up over my head. I was in the Weser river.
I bobbed up out of the water and spluttered, being pulled along by the current. I flailed around for some invisible thing to clutch on to, so I would swallow a little less of the icy cold water. The screams from the town hall were also getting quieter under the sounds of the river.
I finally managed to clutch on to something floating down the river. I dragged myself up onto it and gasped for air. My legs started to go numb, the river was so cold…
What was it that I was holding onto? I felt the texture under my arms. It was wet cloth. My shivering hands inspected as much as they could without me falling off.
An arm. I screamed, and as my feet finally made contact with the river bed I let go, still gasping for air of shock and whimpering.
Was it one of the Rats I had grabbed onto? No, the arm was too skinny. But… Surely… Pfeifer wouldn’t…
I found my way to the bank of the river and lied on my stomach. I think I was crying, but I was too numb from the cold and shock to tell. But… There was something I had to know. I stood up again, and shakily waded into the shallows of the river. Who knew how far I was from the city now.
As I sat down, letting the water ebb around my lower body, I tried to reason. Maybe… He was trying to make sure it was just me. That was it. But then, where was Pfeifer now? And even then, he wouldn’t…
I cried out as my hand made contact with another child’s body. And then another… And another… And another…
“Who is that, Mother?” He was continuing, but I could tell he was just addressing the people still, not really caring to tell them who he was yet.
“I don’t know… It’s a man. He’s wearing a red and yellow suit, like one of the ones in that 1920s movie Mummy and you watched a while ago. Remember where I told you about those Zoot Suits?”
“My name is Pfeifer, and I am a… Rat Catcher of sorts” There was laughter at this obvious pun. Laughing was a rare thing in Hamlin.
“Mother, where’s the window? Let me touch the window. I want to face him while he speaks.”
“Nothing Mother. The glass is just a little cold”
“A thousand guilders”
“The Rats, Mayor Shultz… They are all dead. We found their bodies floating down the Weser River ten minutes ago.”
“A…. Thousand….. Guilders….. Mayor. Do you have them or not?”
“Son! What are you doing?”
“Darling, sit down”
“Please, parents, control your children!”
But I heard my name again.
“Deiter…”
All I could hear now was Pfeifer calling my name. No-one called me Deiter. It was on my birth certificate and I’m sure my parents once gave it to me, but this was the first time I had ever heard my name. And it was the best sound I had ever heard.
“Deiter! Come with me!”
“I’m coming Pfeifer, but I… I don’t know how to”
Sunday Morning. Only just though. I finally brought myself to open my eyes and look at the clock on the lounge room wall. It was like looking through the bottom of one of the beer bottles I was drinking out of last night. The clock was just about impossible to make out, but I’m pretty sure it was almost not morning anymore. My seemingly fractured head didn't really help my vision either, feeling like it had one of my woodwork clamps around it, which was tightened enough so that my head would burst at the slightest touch.
I eased my head up and made out my surroundings. The clock on the wall, of course. The TV, hard to make out in the rubble from some ancient war... Or at least a small brawl that two of the boys got into last night, our party after the brilliant win of our team still painfully fresh in my mind, or at least most of it anyway. Bottles strewn around the floor ganging together in bigger groups, as they got closer to my resting place, the couch.
I had left the curtains open, and now the sun was streaming through, it seemed its sole purpose was to aggravate this headache. As I sat up, a wave of nausea passed over me, and I realised I would probably spending most of my day over a sink, or lying down with a bucket nearby.
I got up off the couch, being sure to avoid broken shards of glass that resembled crocodile's teeth as I did. My head protested as I pulled the curtains closed. Usually I wouldn't notice any sound, but for the moment I seemed to have started up a jackhammer.
I couldn't help it now; my stomach and head decided they had put up with too much punishment within the short period I had been up. I threw up on the floor. Another mess I would have to clean up before my parents' return on Tuesday.
My stomach still grumbled and did somersaults. I had to get to the bathroom fast. A cold shower was in order. This morning was getting disgusting enough for me.
It was a soft sound, but my hangover was picking up every sound and multiplying it by a hundred or something. The sound in the kitchen came to me loud, clear, and painfully. I could feel my mind trying push through a thick layer of fog that had taken residence in my brain, so it could go into panic motions. It had me frozen next to the curtains and my stinking vomit.
I tried to calm myself, hard when there was a brawl like the one last night going on in my head. But I had to wonder if I was some kind of wuss, just standing there. I was the captain of my footy team; surely I could take on anything in this house?
Anyway, it was probably just someone leftover from last night, someone like me who had simply collapsed in the most convenient place available, right?
I had another shot at clearing away the fog, trying to remember if anyone had said anything about staying the night before I let myself go on the couch.
"Hello?"
My voice came out strange, like my voice was breaking again. It hurt my throat to speak.
Whoever it was, they had heard me, but I don't think they wanted me to hear them. The sound was frantic and rushed... It didn't seem like they went very far though.
I was relieved from the fog in my head for a while. The headache remained, but the stuffy feeling had gone, and the headache wasn't a large concern for me at that moment. The thought of forgetting to lock the door last night came as clear as the thumping in the kitchen. Anyone could be in the house.
I was still frozen in my spot, the smell of vomit fermenting in my nose. I had to do something, even if it was just to move from this spot.
I looked around and picked up a broken VB bottle from the floor, waves of dizziness and nausea yet again overcame me. I vomited again, though I was unsure if it was from my hangover or my fear. In any case, what I had thought was a disgusting morning suddenly got worse.
I had the overwhelming wish for my parents to walk in the house right then and there, regardless of the mess from the forbidden party. That thought was quickly shaken off. I was brave enough. Whoever it was, I could take them.
I walked into the kitchen slowly, a pain gripping my chest as I did. I was half expecting to see a cold, hollow barrel of a gun pointed at my head.
I looked around, but there was no one there who I could see. And I didn't know where the sound was coming from. It just echoed around my head and made me feel sick again.
"Gotcha!"
I yelled as I came to the bin and looked behind it. Nothing. I was disappointed to be robbed of my heroic capture.
The plastic bin was rocking at my feet. There was something inside. That was more freaky then the thought of a gun.
I slowly opened it up, not knowing what to expect. The pain in my chest came again and I realised that it was fear.
There was a flurry of movement as some unknown thing launched itself out of the bin, and clung onto my face. Digging sharp knives in four spots of my face. A... tail lashing around frantically... Yowling and hissing...
Realisation rose along with the nausea in my stomach.
I couldn't have cared less as I threw up all over that stupid cat.
Megan walked up into the attic, cleaning as she went. The house was relatively new for her, having only bought it a month ago, and she hadn’t had a need to go up into the room. She’d just been on a cleaning spree that day and felt it was a good a time as any to see it.
Now she’d found it was some sort of a storeroom that the previous owners had forgotten about. Or didn’t care enough to clean it out. She frowned a little annoyed at the thought they had just dumped all this junk onto her, but continued to look around. There was some interesting stuff, and she couldn’t help but wonder if any of it would fetch a good price at an antique shop. It was always worth a try.
Finally, her eyes fell onto an old, rickety and dusty looking upright piano. Megan looked a little impressed, and cleared some junk out of the way to get to it. She looked it over, touching the casing and picking up dust on her fingers as she did so. It had been up in the attic for so many years, unknown, untouched. To think she’d only found it as she’d come through the house cleaning. With a sense of wonder, she dusted off a part of the stool in front of it, sat down and opened the keyboard cover. Hitting a note, it came out off pitch and horrible. The thing was very out of tune. Humming to herself, Megan put her hand up to the left end of the piano, planning to do a scale up the odd notes. She blinked as where dirtied white keys should be, there was nothing.
“Where on earth?” Megan groaned, a little annoyed not to have the relic complete. She stood up and opened up the top of the upright. No keys, but a few of the strings were broken. They would have to be replaced. She sighed as she closed the lid again, before bending down to open up the bottom panelling above the pedals. “It’s just like the one we had at school…” She pushed a strand of hair out of her face as she mumbled to herself and pulled away the panel to reveal…
Megan put her hand over her mouth and gasped. There was still dust falling away, but there, held between the strings of the piano were photos. They were just as dusty as the piano. Leaning in closer, coughing a little in some of the dust, she dusted off some of the photos and looked at them, a look of wonder on her face.
The photos were of children smiling. Some weren’t photos at all; they were letters with names and kid’s pictures on them. Some had “Class 1-C” written on them underneath the names. Running her hands over them, Megan could only keep looking and wondering what this was all about.
She looked down into the bottom of the opening. There was a small brown paper package tied up with string. There was also a white envelope attached. Megan pulled the package out, and took away the envelope, carefully opening it to read the letter.
It was scrawled in a child’s hand, but was easy enough to read. It seemed like an adult had told the child what to write.
“Dear whoever finds this letter,
This is a letter from 1-C, Trema Primary School from 1976. We hope that you can see the photos in many years time and wonder what we have become. In the package are the keys you were looking for.
Best luck for the future, and please add your own photos if you want.
1-C, 1976”
Megan looked up from the letters to the photos again, scanning the faces of the children. She thought about them for a moment, just as the letter asked her to, before opening the package.
The keys were in a plastic bag. Taking the three out, she could see they were white and clean. Untouched by the ravages of time. A lasting memory of the class of 1976, one that had not changed and been covered by dust and grime like everything else.
Smiling, Megan put the keys back in the bag and tied them back up in the package.
Megan came back to the piano later that day with a letter and some photos. She put the photos amongst the strings like the children had so many years ago, and then re-read her letter again.
“Dear whoever finds this letter,
This is a letter from Megan Wilde, owner of this piano in 2006. This piano is a tribute to the past and future. You can choose to replace the piano keys, but some things belong in the past and should be left there.
Yours truly,
Megan.”
She attached her and the children’s letters to the package, closed the panel of the piano and climbed down, back into the house, shutting the trap door as she did so.
“Death, the one appointment we all must keep, and for which no time is set”
This might seem a bit of a strange story to you. In fact, you may want to put the book down right at this moment and simply stop reading due to the outright bizarreness of its contents. For you see, this story doesn’t start at a beginning. It doesn’t start at the end either. It starts somewhere near the middle, or at least what one might think is the middle.
You see, our story opens up with the death of the story’s hero.
Not that Alan Byrne was one you’d normally call a hero. At the age of seventeen, he was average. Average height, average weight, average looks, and an average life in general. And the pole he was about to walk into as he walked to school was rather average as well.
Not looking where he was going, and in a bit of a rush, the stop sign of the corner was rather helpless as he barrelled straight for it, proceeding to knock himself unconscious, falling to the ground.
The day was a quiet one, and it was a quiet street. So no one was around. No one saw Alan fall and so no one came to try revive him. Well, to say no one was around and saw him isn’t completely true. There was a black cat sitting on the fence of Mrs Fullman’s house, and a few crows in a tree nearby. There was also an angel by the name of Serafeng. Serafeng wasn’t just an ordinary administrive angel either. She was a guardian angel, which meant she held utmost responsibility for Alan. Especially when he died.
Charlie Chan
Ed sits in a chair to introduce himself and the mockumentary.
SUPER- Ed Casey: Chief of Staff / The Student with the project
ED
Is it filming? (Pause)Oh sorry… I’m Ed Casey, and er… I’m doing a news program for my VCE final piece. I’ve got what I think is the best of the best of the school so hopefully I’ll get good marks… Which meant I had to tell some of my actor friends that they couldn’t be in it. The teachers don’t like them enough. I let my sister in on it though, because she was paying me five bucks. Um… So… Yeah. We’re filming here at my house. Everyone should be arriving soon. I think.
2. EXT THE BACKYARD MORNING
People are beginning to arrive and ED is greeting them. As Ed’s best friend, Troy is first to arrive. He comes through the back gate up the driveway and Ed comes through the backdoor as he hears the gate opening. Troy turns around to face him.
SUPER- Troy Waters: Anchor
TROY
(Imitating ‘The Fonz’)
Heeeeey
ED
(Coming down the stairs to greet TROY with a handshake)
Hey! You made it!
The two laugh and begin talking about guy stuff, when ASHLEY enters through the still-open gate. She has a fake smile on and is obviously not impressed to see TROY.
ASHLEY
Hi…
Hello?
Right…
----------------------------------------------
ED
So did you catch the game last night?
TROY
Hey, we whipped you last year.
ED
Yeah, but that means nothing this year…
The two guys trail off from their discussion as ERIN bursts through the front gate with DOMINICK in tow. DOMINICK has been chasing ERIN and she is laughing hysterically. ERIN more or less falls onto ASHLEY, who is a bit jumpy.
SUPER- Erin Estella: Weather
Dominick McCornish: Camera
ERIN
Ah!
(still laughing)
I’m sorry Ashley!
Still laughing, she turns to DOMINICK and drags a confused ASHLEY in front of her as a shield of sorts. ED and TROY look on as if they were going to say ‘hi’, but are now weirded out. Suddenly TROY notices ERIN and bursts out laughing as if she was doing the funniest thing in the world. In actual fact he’s just trying to impress her. ERIN sees this and comes over to TROY and ED. DOMINICK meanwhile stay behind to chat up ASHLEY. The conversation between DOMINICK and ASHLEY is the main focus.
ERIN
Hiiii Ed! How are you?
ED
I’m good th-
TROY
(Interrupting)
I’m good also, Erin. How are you?
ERIN
(walks close to Troy)
Oh I’m Fine. Thanks Troy
---------------------------------------
DOMINICK
Did it hurt?
ASHLEY
Huh?
DOMINICK
When you fell out of heaven?
ASHLEY
Ah.
DOMINICK
You know after this we could…
ASHLEY
(Only saying so because she’s angry at TROY)
No.
All look up the stairs to the front door as CHARLEY bursts out, food in her mouth.
SUPER – Charley Casey: Personal Assistant
CHARLEY
(muffled because of food)
Ed?
ED
What?
CHARLEY
The video camera’s not working again
ED
What?
Everyone’s attention is drawn to the front gate, as it makes sounds as if someone is trying to get in. NICK, RALPH and various CREW are behind it. Ed looks back up to CHARLEY and begins to make his way up the stairs.
ED
Get the gate, I’ll go sort it out…
CHARLEY begins coming down the stairs as ED pauses halfway.
ED
Dom, could you help me with it please?
DOMINICK flashes a smile to ASHLEY before following ED into the house. TROY has begun talking to ERIN again, though they shouldn’t really be heard. ASHLEY is sulking over to the side. CHARLEY opens the gate and NICK, RALPH and various CREW come through. ERIN looks up and calls out as she sees them.
ERIN
Hi Angel!
SUPER: Ralph “Angel” Ruxton: Make-up
RALPH
Erin! How are you?
By now the group coming from the front gate should have reached the backyard.
SUPER – Nick Anjer: Editor
NICK
(Waving)
Hi…
NICK is ignored, as RALPH and ERIN gush over some stuff that isn’t really heard. TROY is trying to figure out how he knows RALPH, and he suddenly figures it out.
TROY
Hey, aren’t you Ralph? Why’d she call-
RALPH
(Almost angry)
Call me Angel, please.
TROY
Angel? Isn’t that a girl’s name or something?
ERIN rolls her eyes as RALPH walks off and ED along with DOMINICK come out of the door.
ED
Got it working! Oh cool everyone’s here…
ED walks down and gives NICK a high five. He then notices something wrong.
ED
Where’s Mel?
TROY
Let’s just get started already.
ED
Yeah but…
3. INT THE INTERVIEW ROOM MORNING
TROY sits in the chair looking quite happy with himself.
SUPER – Troy Waters: Anchor
TROY
Yeah, so I’m top of every one of my classes. It’s like… The teachers love me or something. And it’s not like I can blame them or anything, I mean, I’m a pretty great guy. An obvious choice to be Anchor for Ed’s project anyway. I honestly don’t know how anyone else could be chosen. I mean, everyone loves an Anchorman, and I mean, it’s pretty obvious Erin’s into me and…
Cut to ASHLEY sitting in a chair looking annoyed.
SUPER – Ashley Kosh: Reporter
ASHLEY
I’m top of all my classes. I’m the best drama student at school. I don’t get how I could be that bad. So bad that Ed would pick that idiot Troy Waters to be anchor instead of me. I mean, the guy walked into a room once and expected applause… Only the room was an auditorium and he walked in at the end of a really good speech, which only made his head bigger… I really wanted to be Anchor too, I think it’s unfair…
Split screen, with TROY on the left and ASHLEY on the right.
TROY
Everyone loves me
-------------------------------------------
ASHLEY
I hate him.
4. EXT THE BACKYARD MORNING
CREW members and other cast are setting up in the background, going over lines, etc. ED is on a phone and is sounding quite stressed. Throughout this whole scene, ASHLEY should be watching TROY looking very annoyed.
ED
Mel?
(pauses)
Oh hey, Where are you?
(pauses)
Just hurry up and get here will you?
ED hangs up the phone and TROY walks over.
ED
I got her voicemail. Let’s… Just film.
TROY
Right!
Cut to footage from ED’s camera. TROY is sitting at the ‘news desk’ ready to read the news.
TROY
Good evening, and welcome to the Channel Casey News. Today’s top breaking story, VCAA announces… Crap I just remembered that this sore on my face is going to show up on here.
Cut back to normal footage ED is groaning because he is annoyed, DOMINICK is trying to fix up the camera.
TROY
I mean look, there’s this sore right here… Ralph, you have to cover it up.
RALPH
My name’s not Ralph.
ED
Look, we don’t have time for this…
TROY
You have to cover it!
ERIN meanwhile has moved over to DOMINICK and the two are giggling away.
TROY
Erin, look, they have to cover it don’t they?
RALPH
I can’t even see it.
ED
Oh God… Charley, can you get me something to eat?
CHARLEY is actually eating some chocolate, but rushes off to get ED something to eat anyway. DOMINICK is looking through the camera again.
TROY
Well I know it’s there and it’s huge.
DOMINICK
It doesn’t show up
TROY
(looks at DOMINICK in surprise)
Huh?
DOMINICK
If you turn your head to the left a bit it doesn’t actually show up on the camera.
TROY
Oh, really?
TROY exaggerates trying to turn his head to the left. ERIN and DOMINICK begin giggling away again as the camera focuses in on ASHLEY and NICK.
NICK
Well, this is fun…
ASHLEY
(angrily)
What would you know fatso?
ASHLEY moves away from NICK.
5. INT THE MEDIA ROOM AFTERNOON
NICK is sitting at a computer with the footage from ASHLEY’s report (Scene 12) on the screen.
SUPER- Nick Anjer: Editor
NICK
(Sounding concerned and worried)
I’m not all that fat you know? It’s not like I talk a lot. Most of the time I’m in here…
(His tone turns slightly angry)
I’m only editing this whole thing because I owe Ed a favour… So if I’m fat, then Ashley’s stupid. Mostly because she forgot I was the one editing her report.
6. EXT BACKYARD AFTERNOON
ED is setting up a board for the weather and asking DOMINICK how it is fitting on the screen. ERIN is nearby, trying to go over her lines but is being hindered by TROY chatting her up. CHARLEY is still eating, and offers some food to NICK, who simply looks at her as if she’s weird. ASHLEY is still sulking.
ERIN
Thank you Troy, and now today
TROY
I see you’re thanking me
ERIN
Oh! Yeah! I’m going over lines for the weather report
TROY
You know, if we hooked up, you could thank me for real.
Before ERIN can answer, MEL comes on screen. As soon as she talks, everyone looks at her in surprise. At this stage, only her top half can be seen on camera.
SUPER- Mel Turner: Sports
MEL
(groggily)
Um… Hi?
ED suddenly drops the board he is holding. As he walks over and dialogue goes on, ERIN whispers in DOMINICK’s ear. DOMINICK looks at ERIN suggestively, they laugh and run towards the room under the house, though no-one notices because they’re all too dumbfounded looking at MEL.
ED
(slowly, in a ‘what the hell’ tone)
I would ask you what took so long, but instead I’ll ask you… Why.
The camera zooms out to reveal that MEL is wearing pyjama pants.
MEL
(sounding very tired, a little bit hungover even)
I slept in and didn’t have time to change they’re not going to be on camera anyway.
ED
(takes a deep breath, calming himself down- he’s very stressed)
Fine whatever. You just better hope Miss Brixton really likes you…
ED turns around.
ED
Right, Dominick.
He suddenly notices neither DOMINICK or ERIN are there.
ED
Oh, come on…
7. INT MISS BRIXTON’S OFFICE AFTERNOON
MISS BRIXTON is sitting quite comfortably in her office chair.
SUPER- Miss Brixton: Ed’s Media Teacher
MISS BRIXTON
Well… When Ed told me that his media project was going to be a surprise, and unlike the other students he wasn’t going to let me see a thing let alone help… I thought ‘well, he must be coping’… So I thought as punishment for one of my detention students I’d send her along. Mel hasn’t handed in homework to me for about a year, and so this is a bit like… Alternate detention. Besides, as long as he thought it would get him good marks, Ed would take anyone.Well… When Ed told me that his media project was going to be a surprise, and unlike the other students he wasn’t going to let me see a thing let alone help… I thought ‘well, he must be coping’… So I thought as punishment for one of my detention students I’d send her along. Mel hasn’t handed in homework to me for about a year, and so this is a bit like… Alternate detention. Besides, as long as he thought it would get him good marks, Ed would take anyone.Well… When Ed told me that his media project was going to be a surprise, and unlike the other students he wasn’t going to let me see a thing let alone help… I thought ‘well, he must be coping’… So I thought as punishment for one of my detention students I’d send her along. Mel hasn’t handed in homework to me for about a year, and so this is a bit like… Alternate detention. Besides, as long as he thought it would get him good marks, Ed would take anyone.
8. INT THE INTERVIEW ROOM AFTERNOON
ED is in the interview chair again. He is leaning back and trying to look relaxed, even though it’s very clear he isn’t.
ED
OK. So Mel is in her PJ pants. My sister Charley has eaten just about everything in the house which my parents are going to kill me for ‘cos I’m meant to be in charge of her today. Dominick and Erin have disappeared. Ashley just hates everyone. And… I have no idea what Troy and Nick are doing. I don’t think I want to.
9. EXT BACKYARD AFTERNOON
This is filmed from next to the door of the room from under the house, so that sounds from inside it can be heard when they start.
ED is talking to people and trying to sort things out.
ED
So did anyone see where they went? This house isn’t that huge…
TROY
Oh, I bet I know where they are
NICK
Where?
ASHLEY
(sarcastically)
Yes Troy, tell us where if you’re so great.
TROY
Well I’m not telling you if you’re going to act like that. You’ll have to figure it out for yourselves.
ED
We don’t have time for this!
Giggling and other sounds that would imply people making out or such are heard from behind the camera, which turns towards the door and zooms away a bit.
NICK
I think the documentary girl found something
TROY
I knew they were there
ASHLEY
Shut up Troy
TROY
But I did…
ED walks over and opens the door, to reveal ERIN and DOMINICK behind it, not actually kissing or anything, but looking as if they have been. While the three are gasping etc, the camera turns to face away from DOMINICK and ERIN. ED is covering CHARLEY’s eyes and while ED, ASHLEY and NICK are reacting vocally, TROY is silent with just a look of shock on his face. CHARLEY continues to eat.
ED
Oh my God
---------------------------------
ASHLEY
Holy…
--------------------------------
NICK
Woah
The camera now focuses on TROY who is looking completely shocked, and walks away.
10. INT THE INTERVIEW ROOM AFTERNOON
Back in the interview with ED who has his head in his hands for a few seconds. He takes a deep breath as he looks up at the camera
ED
I have really had it. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was getting marked for this, I would give up now. Because these people are so STUPID. I don’t know why I just don’t do all the jobs myself. Honestly… If it isn’t my cameraman and the weathergirl going off, it’s the reporter getting angry at the anchor or editor.
11. EXT BACKYARD AFTERNOON
The sports desk is now set up with MEL seated behind it. She still looks incredibly tired/hungover. TROY is standing next to ASHLEY and talking to her, though she looks incredibly annoyed. CHARLEY is still eating. NICK is reading.
ED
OK, let’s just film this
Cut to footage on ED’s camera.
MEL
(groggy voice)
Thanks, erm… Troy. Now to the sports. In the last ACS game between Saint Leonard’s and Eltham College…
MEL begins to mumble her lines so that they cannot be understood. There is some laughing heard behind the camera from DOMINICK and ERIN.
ED
Oh far out, CUT!
Cut back to normal footage. ERIN and DOMINICK are mucking around behind the camera, and MEL is more or less falling asleep on the desk. ED is getting progressively more stressed in his chair
ED
Geez, I need to film this, can you NOT screw up please.
There is a squeal from ERIN as she almost knocks DOMINICK over, ASHLEY slaps TROY and walks off. MEL begins to seem like she is snoring.
ED
Come on!
CHARLEY walks up to ED, looking a bit ill.
CHARLEY
(sounding woozy)
Ed, I don’t feel so goo…
CHARLEY runs off to the garden . ED stands up and throws his script down to the ground and walks up towards the house.
12. EXT ON THE FIELD AFTERNOON
On the left, credits are running. On the right is an obviously edited clip on ED’s camera with the footage of ASHLEY’s report. She is standing in the front yard. In the left hand top corner is a little news report box that has a picture of ASHLEY on it and the text “Ashley is stupid”.
ASHLEY
(annoyed)
Thank you Troy. Today the report came that-
(as if she is finishing her report)
-Ashley Kosh-
(concern)
-is running out of-
-noxious gasses. Nearby residents fear that-
-a mass explosion-
-may occur near-
(as if she is finishing her report)
-Ashley Kosh-
(concern)
-killing hundreds-
-however, it is just a rumour-
(annoyed)
-that-
(concern)
-it will not happen-
-mass explosion-
-is indeed-
-imminent-
(as if she is finishing her report)
-This is Ashley Kosh, for Casey Channel News.
(annoyed)
Back to you, Troy, in the studio.
“Have you hacked the system here yet?”
It was a sunny afternoon, and the rays of light filtered gently through the tall Gum trees and lit up the Mount William Range in the Grampians. On the side of the rock face, a hand caught hold of a chip in the ledge, only to slip as some loose pebbles fell, before gripping the chip with the tips of its fingers again, and dragging it’s owner a little further up the wall.
Stockyard Wall, the hand’s owner had read, was an average quality cliff with a good bit of potential. As the hand kept her balance, Brogan Hiltlen pulled out a small wedge like thing called a polynut from a pouch tied to her waist, and hammered it into a crevice in the rock. She was making full use of the potential, and looking out as a flock of cockatoos flew like white paper towards Jimmy Creek. Brogan felt the rough texture of the cliff with her right hand, and hoisted herself up higher, moving to its summit.
The movement was rhythmic; she dragged her knee across a rough patch and winced as the rock cut into her skin, grazing it. Continuing up, the pain didn’t matter. It was fuel to keep up the rhythm, keep climbing, scaling, rising. This was routine, a expedition and exploration the sixteen year old took during her camping trips with her family. Normally one of them would be supervising, but lately she’d taken to many of the climbs by herself, confident in her own skill and strength.
“Not quite. One, I need you to keep plugging at the fire wall.”
“I’m still surprised we got this far without them noticing… Perhaps they need to upgrade their systems?”
“I don’t care, as far as I’m concerned we should be able to get through any system regardless. I just want to know if-“
“We’re in.”
“Wow, so quick!”
“Just be quiet would you… Have they got anything useful?”
“Er… Two, bring up a system spec.”
“You have got to be kidding me. All this time and we still have to wait.”
“Oh, what’s this thing here?”
“This? I don’t… One check the program filename wrec.exe”
“What is it? Stop holding things out from me!”
”Wow, what do you know!”
“It’s Swordsdancer. They’ve got a signal.”
“Why are we still here? Let’s go!”
“She’s not exactly much use to us on her own. We can’t go into those precincts either, you know that.”
“Everything has its time.”
“But… We’ve been after them so long…”
“We’ll have them soon enough”